The Most Attentive CTA Employee There Is

There is an employee of the CTA who is at my morning stop everyday. In the seven or so months that I've been going to this stop, I've had my eye on the guy as a potential creep-ass. I've observed him several times doing the same odd thing. He will wait at the turnstiles just "checking" that everyone gets through the gates without any trouble. Often, he'll accompany a pretty office girl through the gates, up the stairs, and chat her up on the platform until the train comes.

The office girl is not always the same girl, but always the same type - Caucasian, late 20s, thin, long hair, well-dressed in office clothes, wearing stiletto heels.

Since I tend to have a wild imagination when it comes to public characters, I've refrained from judgment of Employee Creep-Ass. Until today.

Today there was only one CTA machine working. I was standing in front of it, fiddling in my purse to retrieve my CTA card and some money to pay my fare. While I'm doing this, I observe Employee Creep-Ass at his usual post, talking to a leggy blond in black and white stilettos, who has one of those pulley suitcase/briefcase things. Suddenly, he runs over to the CTA machine, budges in front of me, loads her card with two $1 bills, and runs over to put the fare card in the machine for her. Creep-Ass!

I think he's probably the most attentive CTA employee that ever worked for the joint. Maybe I'll write a letter requesting a promotion on his behalf.

Catharsis for Men

Or, catharsis for male actors, I should say.

Last night I went to see David Mamet's "Romance." "Romance" takes place in a courtroom and has an all male cast. About 80% of the play is these male characters yelling and screaming at each other, swearing and screaming, and using religious epithets and screaming. In a courtroom.

Mamet is renowned as a modern playwright, and I've been dying to see one of his plays. How does he capture "the modern man" as a contemporary American playwright? Apparently, as a really stressed out, sexually perverse, screaming person who is just trying to get through his work day.

I have to admit that it was mostly a cathartic experience to watch this play. It was better than watching drama or violence on T.V. because you could actually see the characters express anger - like red faces and a particular straining of the voice. And it wasn't emotional yelling, like the kind in some plays that have women in them, it was more like satisfying venting of anger at the external world.

But it did get a little old. I mean, characters can only exclaim "F*ck You" to each other a certain amount of times in dialogue before it becomes tedious and, well, a little unrealistic.

Those Hamburgers Would Come In Handy Right Now

I deftly avoided a run-in with Lulu this morning, my neighbors' terribly behaved dog. When Lulu started barking intensely, which she does anytime anyone as much as steps on a leaf in the yard, my neighbor said to Lulu in a little baby doggie voice, "Why do you hate Miz M so much, huh?"

As they say, there are no bad pets, just bad pet owners.
And bitches.

I really wonder why this neighbor thought it was appropriate to dump her dysfunctional passive-aggressive habits on her already f---ed up dog. Does the dog need anymore problems? Besides having terribly ineffective discipline, being left home all day, barking a lot, being afraid of all people, and being a fugly-ass pug mutt, does she need her owner to be an emotional idiot?

I wish dogs could talk.

Because if they could, I think Lulu might tell her owner that, in fact, she doesn't hate Miz M. Lulu would tell her how much she loves sniffing the garbage, how much she hates the postman, and how much she wants that bitch to prepare the tray of hamburgers that she promised back in November.

Your car is broke? Ask "The Millionaire"!

There is a particular coffee shop near my house that has extra-weird people working in it. I always have a slightly odd exchange with whomever is working there. There was a new barista there today, and while I was waiting in line, I overheard him talking to another woman customer.

She was relating the woes of her car being in the shop, and how she couldn't get her car out because she didn't have the money to pay for it.

He pointed his arm straight up to the sky, with his index finger extended and said,

"Ask the Millionaire."

New Shoe Report

After only one day of my new shoes, my body feels all kinds of different. I kinda ache, but only in a soreish, different kind of way. Some of my muscles are less tense - my pelvis, my hamstrings. Some are more tense - my shins, my thighs. My upper and lower back feel different too, though I can't really tell what is happening.

However, my feet feel awesome! It reminded me of this dream I had in college when I finally got some tennis shoes -some black Sketchers - to wear around campus. It was wintertime, and for some reason I did not have proper shoes. After about a week of the new shoes, I had a dream of pure bliss that I was putting my foot into the softest, warmest, black feathery shoe in the universe.

So, allow me one more "hippie" comment:

I'm a Pisces; I'm ruled by my feet.

Miz M's an Aging Hippie

Miz M's Farmer's Tonic

Last week I had my 27th birthday. This week, I've decided to make all these changes in my life. Go figure. The first change is to combat my weird congestion with a teaspoon of honey. Over the past 24 hours, I've upped the dosage to take a little of the above "farmer's tonic" each day. It can't hurt, right?

I've also been fed up with uncomfortale shoes so yesterday I went and bought some comfortable ones. I was planning on getting some Dansko clogs, viewing them as more "european" than "hippie," and definately comfortable. However, when comparing them with a pair of Earth shoes, the Earth shoes cradled my feet in a happy, happy way.

So now I wear "Earth" shoes. And I drink a Farmer's Tonic. I told a friend this and she said, "You're turning into a hippie." Which is not something I aspire to at 27 years old, and in my opinion, firmly rooted in modern times.

But, as the guy at the shoe store told me (after I had decided to buy the shoes),

"You may get a second chance at life, but you only get one chance at feet."

Teaspoon of Honey

I've had this crazy congestion in my nose and throat for about three months that miraculously disappeared on Saturday. When analyzing how it disappeared, I figured out that it could have been one of two dietary causes:

1) In the morning, I took a teaspoon of straight honey.
2) For lunch, I had a ferocious and delicious meal of southern Indian cuisine.

It was truly amazing to experience relief from three months of congestion! Do I have food allergies? Mold in my apartment? I don't know the cause of the congestion, but I do know I want to repeat items #1 and #2 to experience the relief. I've taken a teaspoon of honey on both Sunday and Monday, and so far I have stayed clear.

I am generally suspicious of food allergies and of herbal remedies, but I'm going to take my honey tonic every day to see if it helps me to stay healthy.

But spring will prevail...

Spring Crocus

To Those of You in Chicago...

I'm so glad God got me a blizzard for my birthday.

Spring Opossum

I saw one of these large marsupials on this super-paved, fenced-in little yard of a three flat on Friday. It was shocking to see this rather large creature sniffing around in a relatively dense residential neighborhood at 7 a.m. Especially because they are nocturnal.

Coincidentally, it was also a gorgeous "spring" day. The light coat and lack of hat made me feel more vulnerable to the opossum, if he decided to go rabid on my ass. But, now the weather has turned cold again, and it is supposed to snow tomorrow. I think the spring opossum sighting was a little more apropos for this spring than the whole groundhog thing.

Mannequin update: the March outfit is a black dress with some kind of purple smock-shawl. I'll try to get a picture soon.

Future beadations.

Look Around You; Notice Things

Maybe because it's Sunday morning, and maybe because I'm a little hung over, but I'm feeling a little philosophical. I struggle with depression in the wintertime, but through hard work it has been getting better over the past few years. It occurs to me that not all depression can be lifted by the will of the one (some people need medicine), but much of it can. There is just so much in life to get a kick out of, so many little beautiful details, it's a shame not to appreciate what we can.

For example, on Friday, I met a wonderful woman named *Angela.* She was very vivacious, larger than life, able to hold a mariachi band in the palm of her hand. It's hard to explain why she was so captivating (charisma?). But in any case it was obvious that she didn't let the grass grow under her feet. In fact, she just went to Columbia to get some "cheap" plastic surgery - new hooters and a new nose. She was totally open about this, and in fact told many funny and entertaining stories about her experience. How can one be depressed when there is someone out in the world like this?!

I also started reading "The Brief History of the Dead," a fiction book by Kevin Brockmeier. As of page 9, it's officially amazing. The characters in the book are people that have died and passed on to a version of the afterlife, like this world but different. The characters all talk about how they died, and the things they miss about living. One guy, a sixteen year old from Wisconsin, says,

'"Mostly I just miss my girlfriend."
Her name was Tracey Tipton, and she did this thing with his earlobes and the notched edge of her front teeth that made his entire body go taut and buzz like a guitar string. He had never given his earlobes a second thought until the day she took them between her lips, but now that he was dead he thought of nothing else. Who would have figured?'

This picture will cure your winter depression.

Spring is on the way!
(This was taken last year - but still!)